The Stargate Initiative
by Sciencefictionsquirrel
Summary: AU. In 1945, Ernest Littlefield ventures through the Stargate and manages to convey that he is alive via a radio set. This, coupled with a more intact Heliopolis, result in the development of the Stargate Initiative, dedicated to using the stargate for the benefit of the USA and mankind.
1. Prologue

The Stargate Initiative

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. I'm just dabbling in that universe now.

A/N: This is co-written with jad4400. Thank you for all your assistance. This story wouldn't exist without your help. Also, I already posted this story over on another site that I'm sure some of you are familiar with, but, after numerous requests, I have decided to publish it here as well. I'm going to give all of you the first four chapters today, and the normal update schedule will be weekly on Mondays. However, after the update on Monday that will give you chapter five, this story will be on hiatus for a couple of weeks while my co-author and I work on getting more developed so that we can avoid further interruptions to the posting schedule.

Summary: Okay, people, this is an AU story that starts in 1945. Due to a couple of fortuitous differences from the original timeline, Ernest Littlefield uses a modified radio to communicate that he survived, and, in addition, Heliopolis still stands in reasonably good condition and with a functional DHD. The Stargate Initiative is formed to take advantage of the potential gains of the device.

Prologue

_The smallest of changes can bring about the biggest differences. A single life, or even the presence of one small alteration, could bring about great changes. In one universe, their presence or absence might seem innocuous at first, but over time could bring about catastrophic changes or magnificent progress. Here, in one universe, the impact of two small objects in the grand cosmic scale would bring about life-changing events for the inhabitants of several galaxies. Here now is the universe changed by an engineer and a radio…_

PB2-908 "Heliopolis"- 12, 531 B.C.E.

The castle was bustling with various amounts of movement as the construction teams moved with their drones and other tools putting the finishing touches on the location. Oberon, however, was merely standing still, though he was accomplishing more than any of the foremen and their drones. The jutting, clamp-like device was clinging firmly to his head and humming with power, and with a simple thought, he sent several electrical impulses through the machine's wireless interface into the pedestal standing behind him.

Rising to the top of the castle, the new column stood firm and unmoving. Almost a meter in diameter and reinforced with a trinium core, this column was the same as hundreds of others being placed within the castle. He grinned as he deactivated the repository and admired his work. This would be his greatest achievement yet, a location for his people and other advanced races to meet. Its legacy would long outlive him and had been a project he had long worked for ever since he had arrived. He began to circle around the newly-constructed pillar and inspected it for flaws he knew would not be there. His work was perfect, but the inspection kept his mind off the past. Yet he began to remember her once more, despite his best efforts to forget. The memory made his grin disappear as he stretched, shaking his muscles loose after standing still for hours.

It had been more than five years now since he had returned from Atlantis. The war against the vile Wraith was going poorly when he had departed; the Middle Reach had fallen to an assault, and the beasts were coming closer and closer to Atlantis. Many of his kind had started the process of Ascension as the conflict became more and more hopeless.

He grimaced, despite his best efforts to push the sadness aside. He remembered Lirian's smiling face, and the joy he felt when he was with her. Her sunset-colored hair always looked beautiful, especially on the sunny days in their small house. The war seemed so far away and out of mind when he was with her. His engineering work mainly focused on building up planetary infrastructure and so he remained far from the front lines. Still, the two had prepared to ascend and live forever, far beyond any conflict or petty problem the galaxies might offer.

Then the Wraith had taken her on a surprise attack on the inner colonies. While on one of the colony's sister worlds, the Wraith had launched a rapid assault on several inner worlds within the Lantean zone of control. Causing as much damage as possible and taking as many poor souls as they could, the Wraith had torched several of the oldest colonies of his people and fled before the mighty host of the Lantean fleets could arrive and repel them, taking hundreds of thousands, including his beloved.

He had nothing once she was taken; the projects of the Pegasus galaxy lost all meaning and interest to him. Every day, the Wraith made more and more gains, and he loathed to see his work either destroyed or used by his foe. Without Lirian, ascension lost any meaning and joy if he could not be with her. Thus, when several of his compatriots decided to return to Avalon, to flee Pegasus while they could, he opted to return with them. Perhaps the disease had burned itself out and they could rebuild.

Alas, it was not to be. The sickness had taken a greater toll than originally thought when his ancestors departed to Pegasus. His people were still powerful, yet only a shadow of what they once were. Terra and her children were still primitive, and nowhere near to being a potential superpower. Some who came back decided to live amongst them anyway, to breed and pass down a legacy through their genes, others had opted to ascend and live beyond the limitations of the mortal world. Still others continued on, exploring the galaxy, seeding Astria Porta, and building new outposts. In time, they had met several other advanced races in the galaxy and it was decided to create a grand location for all four groups to meet.

As he placed his hand on the pillar's smooth stone, Oberon remembered his surprise when he had been given control of the project. The design he had been given was that of an ancient citadel, but the actual construction and fabrication would fall to him. The engineer who was originally working on the project wanted to use simple stones to maintain the authentic look of the place and over time let it fall to the natural elements should it go into disuse. Once Oberon arrived, the engineer was delighted to have someone else who could take over and had later ascended. However, Oberon would not let this place fall. Though alliances and political machinations might render this location moot, the building would still stand. This grand repository and meeting hall would be his mark left on the galaxy; before he died, he wanted to leave something meaningful behind. Slowly, he reworked many parts of the original design, introducing small bits of trinium reinforcing, improved weather-resistance technologies were installed, the cliff face was braced against the erosion of the nearby sea, and the electronic systems were given multiple redundancies. The stone may wither over time, but the location would stand for thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of years. A place of peace and knowledge, it would be his small legacy to leave behind…


	2. Chapter 1

The Stargate Initiative

Chapter 1

United States, 1945

"Doorway to Heaven." That was the translation of the name of the massive device in front of Ernest Littlefield. The ring-shaped device was being rotated to lock onto the destination they'd found while he himself was being suited up in standard diving dress with a slight modification. In addition to a wired communications system, the diving helmet had been modified with a radio transceiver taken from the classified Joan-Eleanor system used to communicate with agents in the field in Europe. The radio unit had been altered so that he could hit the push-to-talk button with his chin and then speak. He'd been surprised by this; even the Navy didn't have access to wireless systems for their suits. He suspected that his father-in-law-to-be had pulled some strings with his friends in the OSS to get the experimental unit. Before he had prepared to suit up, he remembered what Professor Langford said: "I'm not worried about what's beyond that doorway, I'm worried about the hell my little girl will raise if I don't bring her fiancée home"

He was still smiling at the comment as they fitted the helmet over his head, carefully moving several wires and an antenna to ensure the radio was working, while providing room for the air hose to pump oxygen into the helmet. As the last seal was tightened, he stood. The Doorway had been activated, and he slowly walked up the ramp. Pressing the "transmit" button on the radio, he began to speak. "This is Doctor Ernest Littlefield. Can you hear me?" he asked, then released the button.

"We're receiving you, Doctor Littlefield. Proceed." the voice of Paul Langford said.

"Proceeding." Ernest said as he walked up to the Doorway. "I am entering it now." he said as he began to step through the gate, talk button depressed. When he completed stepping through the gate, he found himself in a completely different chamber. "Professor Langford, I've arrived in some sort of chamber." he said.

Suddenly, the light behind him vanished; looking back, the rippling surface was gone, to be replaced only by the sight of the empty ring. Looking further, he saw the severed remains of his air hose. Panic gripped at him as he held his breath, unaware of if there were any toxins in the air. After several excruciating minutes, his lungs burned and he was forced to take a deep gulp of air. Taking several more, he was surprised to find that the air that was coming in through the severed hose was quite breathable.

Taking several steps forward, the place he was in felt very similar to the conditions of the warehouse. His weighted boots clanged heavily as he stepped forward on the raised dais that held the gate. Grunting, he unlatched the heavy boots and left them in front of the Doorway. Disconnecting the useless hose, he left the porthole in the back of his helmet open to let the fresh air in.

With that, he began to explore the immediate area. He was in some medium sized chamber, the Doorway was held up on a dais, and about twenty feet away was a curious-looking pedestal. Walking over, Ernest saw that it had a dull red center dome, and a variety of tabs with intricate symbols. Reaching down, he pressed one the symbols at random and was surprised to see it light up, and through the din of his helmet, he could hear a loud hum. Pressing several more, he was curious about their illumination. He soon found, though, that he could only illuminate seven at a time. Pressing further, he placed his hand on the red center. It began to glow for a brief moment as a whirling sound filled the air, but stopped a moment later. The glowing dome dimmed at the same time. Pressing another random set of seven, he tried again, and was met by the dull whirl and glow that ended in less than a second.

Looking to his left, he saw several open windows. Walking over, he looked out to see a vast sea, and that his location was precariously perched over a steep cliff. He heard the waves crash against the cliff face with a thunderous roar as the sun made the water sparkle. The sun was hanging high above the sea, which was strange since he had departed in the early evening back in the warehouse.

"Where the hell am I?" Ernest asked himself as he rested on his elbows looking out over the sea. He had decided to remain in the room for a while in case the professor tried to contact him.

Losing himself in his thoughts, Ernest began to think of Catherine; their wedding was scheduled for three months from now. He wanted nothing more than to be back wherever she was and hold her. Would he ever get back? Could the professor find him? A small sense of fear and loss began to creep into the back of his head, but he quickly shook his head as best he could with several pounds of brass restricting his finer neck movements. Looking behind, he noticed several sets of different glyphs on the wall. Some looked like a language he had never seen before, while others looked strangely like Egyptian hieroglyphs. Was he somewhere in the Mediterranean, perhaps? Some kind of lost island in the seas by Egypt? Walking over to the wall, he placed a hand over the symbols and squinted. Near the top were various hieroglyphic symbols and other texts that looked to be a derivative of the Egyptian language, yet behind the symbols, seeming as though someone had attempted to etch them out were another, more faded set of symbols. Looking down, Ernest saw the Egyptian text used less and less and the older text appeared more and more. Strangely, the flow of the older symbols seemed to look more like the symbols on the pedestal and Doorway rather than the hieroglyphs.

"That's weird," he thought as he looked at the two. The presence of two different language sets would seem to imply that one group had originally inhabited the area, before another group moved in, yet the older texts didn't resemble any forms of writing that would predate the Egyptians. Hell, from what he remembered of the Professor's lectures, only the Mesopotamians had beaten the Egyptians to some kind of written language, and this text didn't look anything like cuneiform. Perhaps it was a derivative of an ancient form of Minoan hieroglyphs; it would make sense, especially if he was in the Mediterranean.

Lost in thought, Ernest wasn't paying attention to the rest of the room. When the doorway began to activate once more, he didn't notice. After the third chevron on the gate was locked, he suddenly woke up to his surroundings as he suddenly heard a faint whirl, similar to the sound when he pressed the tabs on the strange pedestal, except the sound continued for far longer. Looking to the Doorway, he saw the arrows along the outside slowly beginning to light up. One by one, they began to glow orange and the whirling sounds continued. He also heard the strange lighting sounds emanating from the pedestal. Running over, he saw several of the tabs beginning to light up on their own. Three were already activated, and soon a fourth followed, then a fifth, then a sixth, and then the final one illuminated. The pedestal's core began to glow a bright red.A loud noise, that sounded like a large lock being unlocked, echoed through the room. Looking up at the ring, Ernest heard a loud kawoosh and saw a bright blue wave of some kind of energy extend outward from the device just like it had when it was activated in the warehouse. He noticed that the boots he had left on the dais were obliterated by the vortex of energy as it slowly retreated and formed the gently-rippling pool of energy and light in the center of the ring. After several seconds, the radio in Ernest's helmet began to crackle to life.

"Hello? Hello?! Ernest, it's Paul. Are you there?"

Pressing his chin to the strap, Ernest replied as a huge surge of relief welled within his body. "Paul, it's Ernest! I'm here!"

"Ernest, it's good to hear you. Now, we have no idea how long this will stay open. I recommend that you return as soon as possible." his future father-in-law responded with a small note of relief in his voice.

Looking at the smoldering remains of his boots in front of the ring, Ernest eyed the pool in the center with suspicion. "We don't know if that's possible, Professor. This thing has a lot of unknowns and dangers. I left my boots in front of it, and the waveform that emerged when we dialed the Doorway disintegrated them. For all we know, the passage only works in one direction at a time. Give me a moment; there is plenty of rubble here. I'm going to throw a piece back through the doorway. Let me know if it arrives, and I'll come back through if it does." Ernest said. He walked over to a small pile of broken stones and chipped masonry and grabbed one of the larger pieces, then walked toward the Doorway.

"Throwing it through … now." he said, and let the rock fly. It vanished into the pool of light with a ripple. After several seconds, the radio crackled once more.

"Ernest, nothing came through." said the professor, a slight tone of disappointment in his voice.

"Then transit isn't possible in both directions. I'm stranded here." Lifting his chin so the radio wouldn't transmit, he looked at the ring he could not enter. "Oh, god … I'm stranded here." he muttered quietly to himself.

"For the time being. Try to see if there's any way to activate it from your side after it closes." Professor Langford said quickly in a reassuring tone. "We'll attempt to send supplies through soon. We'll keep the radio apparatus here and will contact you regularly."

"What are you going to tell Catherine?"

"I don't know, Ernest. I'll tell her what I can."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Ernest, I swear to god, we're going to get you home, son. I'm not leaving my daughter's fiancée to die in some rat hole in the middle of nowhere. Do you need anything apart from the basics? The men are already getting ready to send a crate through."

"Yes .. Send a couple more radios in case this one breaks. Also, I could really use some pants and a shirt; walking around in this diving suit is going to get mighty uncomfortable after a few days."

Several minutes passed, and then a medium-sized crate came through on a small dolly. Running up to the dais, Ernest grabbed the crate and wheeled it down the steps of the dais. As he pulled, the professor's voice once again filled his helmet.

"The generators are about to run out of fuel over here; we'll try and contact you in a day or two, three at most. Ernest, have you seen anything that might help you get back?"

"Yes; there's some strange pedestal near the gate. It has the same symbols as the gate, and has tabs that light up whenever you press them. It might just be some kind of announcement screen, but it might be my best chance." he said.

"All right, sounds good. I'll make sure the techs keep everyone away from the gate in case you call in so no one gets hit by the vortex. We'll check in soon, Ernest … Good luck."

With that, the Professor's voice cut out as the Doorway turned off. Alone once more, Ernest opened the crate and took out two backpack radios, several tins of rations and water, and a fresh uniform. Quickly changing into the lighter fatigues, Ernest Littlefield stepped over to the pedestal. He rubbed his hands together, and then began to press the symbols.

"Just like a telephone number." he muttered to himself as he completed a set of seven symbols and pressed the red center. The tabs emitted their loud sound as he pressed each one. After he completed the set, he placed his hand on the red core, and heard the faint whirl start up, only to die. Cursing, he input another set of seven. "Let's see if I can dial home..."

* * *

For nearly a week, Ernest tried hundreds of different combinations, but to no avail; none formed a connection. Frustration was beginning to well within him as he furiously jabbed in another set of seven symbols. When he pressed the red crystal, he expected the small whirl and silence that had greeted him so many times before. He was surprised instead when the crystal glowed a fierce red and a loud kawoosh emanated from the gate, creating the cool blue portal.

Jumping with joy, Ernest ran over to his helmet; it was time to radio the professor the good news. "Professor! Professor! … Paul, it worked; I'm coming home!" he yelled into the microphone as he put the helmet on. He began to sprint to the gate, eager to throw himself through and be back home. Just as he began to climb up the dais, a thought crossed his mind that forced him to slow down, and then stop just inches from the shimmering hadn't the professor radioed back? Why hadn't anyone radioed back? The past four times the base radioed him, it was the professor who responded, or at least a radio tech that was monitoring the gate 24/7, according to Paul's last transmission, so that Ernest could talk to someone if he figured out the sequence. But no one was talking to him.

Tentatively, he pressed the chin strap again. "Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me?" He called, but received no answer.

Swearing, he unfastened his helmet and went to one of the backup radios that had been sent. Turning a couple of knobs and checking the power, both of which were fine, he tried again. "Hello? Hello? Base? This is Doctor Ernest Littlefield. Do you copy?" he called into the speaker, but got only static.

Now, he was faced with a dilemma. The base wasn't responding, but the Doorway was open. Maybe there was an outage at the base and they couldn't respond. Perhaps the tech had to take a head break. The possibilities were endless, yet Ernest's gut told him that there was something more. A conversation he'd had with the professor the day before he walked through the Doorway.

"_If it's some kind of lock, why thirty-nine symbols? Why not just six?" Professor Langford asked._

"_They're not combinations; they're destinations! And we just found _one_!" Ernest replied._

Maybe this wasn't the destination to the Doorway at the warehouse at all. Maybe this was a third Doorway, one that was somewhere else entirely.

He went over to crate, pulled out a pad and pencil, and wrote the combination down; no sense in losing it. For the next half-hour, Ernest continued to use the radio, but to no avail. All three were working, but no one was responding. After slightly over a half-hour or so by his reckoning, the Doorway shut down on its own.

Sighing, Ernest leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, covering his face with his hands. Freedom … it had been so close, but he just didn't want to chance it. He'd have to ask the professor about it when he dialed in tomorrow for their scheduled resupply. Standing up, Ernest walked over to the window. For the past week, the nights had been decidedly overcast, but now it looked like the clouds were letting up for the evening. At least, he could try to approximate his location with astronomy, though his skills were a bit rusty from his boy scout days.

Looking up into the clear night sky filled him with relief and wonder, the clear air felt good to his lungs, and the stars shone like beacons that could help him find his way home. Grasping the sides of the window hole, he looked out to try and get his bearings. It took him a moment to adjust to the cool air in his face, but eventually he was able to see more clearly as his eyes adjusted to the wind and darkness as well.

Squinting further, he felt a familiar warning of dread begin to curl up in his stomach… Where the hell was Polaris? Hell, he shouldn't even see the South Star. Where were the Dippers? Sirius? Scorpio? Orion? He could find none of the familiar constellations or stars, and while he thought he might have been on the other side of the world, he saw absolutely no familiar locations in the night sky, none at all. Searching more, he realized something even more grave: He couldn't find the moon.


	3. Chapter 2

The Stargate Initiative

Chapter 2

"…Ernest, you want to say that again?"

"Professor, I know it sounds crazy, bu… but I don't think I'm on Earth anymore."

"Son, I know you've been stuck there for a week now, and things must be getting kind of stir crazy, but I need you to hold onto it, if not for me, then for Catherine."

"I know what I'm saying!" Ernest snapped. Immediately regretting that, he took a deep breath, and then continued, "Look, I've been gone for a week now; it was a full moon when I left. The new moon should still be another week away. The constellations not being right, the strange languages, my earlier connection, it's all too much evidence. Either I'm on a strange, undiscovered island on Earth, which I doubt since there's, nothing in the sky to indicate so, or this thing is some kind of gateway to other worlds."

There was a pregnant pause before someone spoke up. "Ernest… you realize what you're saying … what it could mean, if it's even possible, I mean…"

"Look, Professor, I described the seven symbols I dialed. Why don't you try dialing it; maybe I was wrong, and it does connect here."

"We looked, and we only have six of those symbols on our end; the last one isn't on our ring."

"I noticed that, too, when I looked at the pedestal here; the last symbol of the code you sent me here with wasn't on it. The inverted V with the circle above it … Maybe … Maybe that symbol is unique for each ring, an identifying marker or something. Try the coordinates I gave you with that in mind, and it might work. Professor, if that's the case, if there is some kind of connection … then this thing is way bigger than we thought…"

* * *

It took Paul a week of wrangling around, but he managed to get some improved generators for the bunker. He was lucky that Roosevelt was keeping his team supplied with important gear, even with the war in Europe winding down. He was thankful that the President was as curious about the ring as he was, though that didn't stop some of the corpsmen from grumbling about having to guard it.

In addition, he managed to acquire a small cart, and, more importantly, a gun camera and some wiring. They rigged the camera to the cart, with a motor and radio-operated pivot. Some more work, and they rigged up a transmitter for the video feed so that they could get the footage in real time. They had a lot of spare parts from Aphrodite to work with to make the pivot, which was a hell of a lot easier than making a plane fly on its own.

They dialed the coordinates Ernest sent, and Paul was surprised to see that the gate made the connection. The increasingly familiar kawoosh sound echoed through the chamber as the techs wheeled the small cart forward. Pushing it with a stick, it made its way through the Doorway slowly. Walking over to a TV screen, Paul looked at the camera feed. The cart was on top of a small dais, much like the one Ernest described where he was, in some kind of field, with trees in the distance. The tech pressed some buttons, and the camera panned left and right. The grainy, black-and-white footage didn't show too much, but he did notice a small pedestal near the gate. However, this most definitely was not the closed room that Ernest had said he was in.

_My god_, Paul thought as he stood up and crossed his arms. "Maybe Ernest was right; we'll need to send a diver through to test conditions and-"

"Sir … I've got movement." the tech said, panning the camera to the right.

Squinting at the screen, Paul saw a humanoid figure move toward the cart. Ernest? he thought as the figure approached. Had he gone through after all?

Suddenly, the creature got a lot closer, and Paul let out a small gasp. It definitely was not Ernest; this figure stood at least several inches taller, but, more importantly, it was covered in some kind of chain mail armor and held a staff of some sort, but what truly stood out was the eagle-shaped helmet it wore, which made it seem even taller. At least, Paul thought it was a helmet; for all he knew, it was the creature's natural head.

The being took several steps closer and tilted its head slightly at the cart. The tech panned the camera slightly to get a better look. Suddenly, the being aimed its staff at the cart. The rounded rectangular tip had split open into four sections. It sparked with energy, and then a bolt shot out at the cart, cutting the feed.

"Turn it off … I SAID, TURN IT OFF!" Paul yelled at the techs that were frantically disconnecting cables from the device. The generators had long since been turned off, but the backup power needed disconnecting as well. After several seconds, they had unplugged everything and shut the gate off.

Taking several sharp breaths, Paul Langford looked around the room at the people there. He hastily gathered up the tapes and made his way out the door. He needed to see several very important people right away…

* * *

"Say again, professor?" Ernest asked as Paul filled him on the events that had transpired.

"We're sending more people through, Ernest. A week from now, April first. You… Ernest, you were right; this does seem to be a portal to other places, other worlds. The fact that our probe got destroyed by some energy-staff-wielding alien life form seems proof enough of that, aside from the observations you've made of your location."

"Bu… But we have no clue how we can get home, even if we can get home at all; we've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to get me home! And now you want to strand more people here with me? What if we never get home?!"

"Son, this just became a whole lot bigger than we thought!" Paul said sharply, taking Ernest aback. "I'm sorry, I want to do everything I can to make sure you can get home and marry my little girl, but we've just confirmed that there are aliens out there, and they like to shoot things with energy blasts! They aren't friendly, Ernest! We're way behind that kind of technology, and the President agrees. He's appropriating some more funds for our project and sending more personnel from the Signal Corps and other parts of the army to assist us. We're looking into bringing some more Egyptologists and linguistics experts to figure out what that text you mentioned is, though most of them are still contracted with the military trying to crack the rest of Jerry and Tojo's codes. But I'm confident we'll be able to get a few of them and send them through."

"Dear God … you're serious. This thing is really expanding, isn't it?"

"It is, Ernest. Listen, I trust you more than anyone else, and you've been there for almost three weeks now. I need you to start looking around the castle to see if there is anything that might be of use to us. I know you've cooped yourself up in that room, but now we need more information. We're sending you more stuff like flashlights and notepads to help you out. Listen, son, I know this isn't what you signed up for, but until we can get more eyes and ears out there, you're our best bet, and once people start arriving at your location, I'm putting you in charge of ES-1."

"Paul, I've never been in charge of anything before. I'm more than happy to look around and see what I can find, but actually ordering people around? I've never done that and … wait, ES-1?"

"Extra-solar Site One. We need a way to name these locations; it's part of our overall structure."

"Structure?"

"That's right, Ernest, structure. This little operation has officially stopped being a fanciful curiosity of the President and is now being incorporated into a greater command structure, all centered on operations involving the Doorway. We've already got two known offworld locations, and if there are more Doorways out there, you can bet we'll find more stuff out there, and if those aliens have ways of invading us, especially if they don't have these Doorways … Well, let me say, I'm pretty sure sneezing on them won't stop an invasion. It takes time to set up a whole new command, but we're working on it. In the meantime, Ernest, I'm counting on you to find us something we can use."

"I'll do my best, Professor. Also, I've been thinking, and we need a better name for the ring than 'Doorway to Heaven.' It's kind of cumbersome, after all. I've got an idea."

"Let's hear it, then."

"It's a gateway to the stars, right? Why not call it a Stargate?" Ernest said.

"I like the sound of that, Ernest. Stargate. I'll make sure to see that it become the official term." Paul said.

After that talk, several more crates of supplies were sent through before the gate disconnected. After arranging them off to the side, Ernest picked up a new flashlight, a large ball of yarn, and a notebook. Part of him had been curious about what might lay deeper within the castle, but he wanted to remain close in case a way home emerged. But now, with greater operations being planned …  
Tying the yarn to the pedestal, Ernest raised his flashlight and began to climb up a staircase that he had noticed earlier. Making sure to leave a trail with the yarn, Ernest slowly climbed the stairs to an upper part of the castle. After huffing and climbing several flights, he emerged into a room with several more around, he shined his light on the pedestals, and noticed that they had a similar style of writing to what he saw on the Stargate's pedestal and on the faded portions of the wall. The tops of these pedestals were covered in quite the layer of dust. Curious, he swept his hands over one of the pedestals and wiped away the grime, revealing more symbols and tabs. Walking over to another pedestal, he repeated the process, and the same for the third, fourth, and fifth. When he got to the sixth, however, something happened. As he swept his hand over the top of it, several of the tabs lit up with a faint hum. Startled, Ernest leaped back and glanced warily at the illuminated buttons.

They hummed with power, but did nothing else. Ernest's curiosity got the better of him and he went over to the pedestal once more and looked at the illuminated top. Three different buttons were lit up. Reaching out, he pressed the first one and was rewarded with a faint, yellow glow. Turning off his flashlight, he reached out and pressed the second button. Suddenly, the faint, yellow glow filled an area outside the room. Realizing that there were windows at the far end, he ran over and saw that the gate room was now lit up as well. Running back to the pedestal, he pressed the final button.A low hum began to fill the air around him, slowly building up steam as it became louder and louder. Then it began to quiet once more, the remaining pedestals in the room began to illuminate, lighted display screens coming to life. Some of the wall panels illuminated as well. While many were cracked and seemed to struggle to maintain themselves, for Ernest, this was beyond belief, unlike anything he had seen before, like something out of a pulp science fiction magazine. Colored panels … some kind of haptic interface … advanced electronic lighting … it was simply amazing!

Looking down the staircase, he saw that the way down was illuminated as well. With an energy he hadn't had since he first stepped through the gate, Ernest Littlefield raced down the spiral staircase and began to explore the castle with gusto…


	4. Chapter 3

The Stargate Initiative

Chapter 3

The next three weeks were a blur of activity. For Paul Langford, it was incredible, to see his life's work take on a whole new dynamic. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the stone circle he found in Giza almost twenty years ago would be a portal to the stars, and neither would he imagine that he would suddenly be foisted in charge of a small army of various personnel, between technicians, supply officers, scholars, doctors, engineers, and even soldiers (who were none too pleased to be here rather than fighting overseas). Still, everything had been going relatively swimmingly.

Ernest had managed to find some kind of power switch in the castle he was stuck in and had busied himself with exploring the location. He reported that he found more of the two strange writings on several more walls, and just as they had prepared to send the first group of personnel through, he reported an even more amazing find. Apparently, he had discovered another strange pedestal in the castle. Only this one, instead of copying the pattern of the ring, was some kind of light projector. Ernest still wasn't sure what it was about, but the sheer volume of information that he believed to be present in the device was incredibly tantalizing, so much so that Paul was half-tempted to go through with the first wave to see for himself, but with no definite way home yet, he knew he could ill-afford to go on such an indulgent trip. From the basic description, it almost sound like the projections were atomic representations being used as some kind of code, but Ernest hadn't yet been able to start any kind of translation attempt.

Langford walked slowly up the small ramp that had been installed leading up to the device. Behind him, a group of sixty individuals stood. Volunteers of various backgrounds, who had been vaguely informed about a great discovery that their expertise would be useful to, but also the likelihood that they might never return. There were several scientists, linguists, engineers, technicians, and, perhaps most importantly, a squad of sour-faced soldiers, all wearing a blue patch shaped like an upside-down teardrop with red flames at the bottom and a buzzard superimposed over a parachute with the number 517 in red above the buzzard and the word "Attack" in white on a red banner below. They were members of the 517th Parachute Infantry Regiment, which was under the command of the 13th Airborne. He'd read a bit about them in the profiles he'd been given; apparently, the 517th had been involved in heavy fighting in Italy before participating in their first combat jump in Operation Dragoon before later fighting in the Ardennes Counteroffensive, and, most recently, the 13th Airborne had initially been slated to participate in Operation Varsity, but a lack of transports put the kibosh on that, and now, with Germany on the ropes, it looked like their Division wasn't going to see combat. When the discreet selection process for people to come into the command of the project, they'd received a surprising number of applications from the 13th, though Langford suspected the men were still disappointed they wouldn't be fighting Jerry or Tojo.

Well, it was time to cheer them up. Clearing his lungs with a loud cough, the small whispers from below the platform ceased, and all eyes were on him.

"Good afternoon." he began, "I appreciate all of you coming on such short notice, and with the utmost discretion. I understand some of you were deep within military projects, or," he said, gesturing to the Airborne men, "awaiting deployment when you received this group's offer. I understand that it was vague and you must have many questions, and now that all those forms you filled out earlier have been filed, I can finally tell you all what's going on and why you're here., and rest assured, it is quite important." He gestured toward the device with a hand. "This … well, how can I say it? This may be the most important discovery ever made by the United Sta… no, by humanity. This ring was discovered by my team and I in Egypt nearly two decades ago, but we could never quite figure out what it was until roughly a month ago, when we activated it. It turns out that this stone circle … is actually an ancient alien artifact."

This elicited some responses, the scientists murmuring among themselves and the soldiers standing up straighter. He did hear a few snickers and chuckles from the crowd as well.

"I'm dead serious." he said, his voice not betraying the excitement he felt inside. "One month ago, my son-in-law-to-be, Doctor Ernest Littlefield, went through the device, which we call the Stargate, and ended up on an alien planet. He's discovered several new pieces of technology and other things that humankind has never discovered before. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to facilitate his return, and that's why we asked for people willing to make a one-way trip. While we're confident that we will eventually figure out how to get him and whoever joins him home, we … cannot make it a guarantee. There is a chance that, when you step through the portal that forms when this device activates, you may never be able to return to Earth, never see the people you know and love again. I understand this is a heavy task to ask of anyone, but we need more firsthand information and expertise on site, and that can only be accomplished by going through.

"However, since we couldn't possibly explain this in writing when we made the offer, due to the understandable risk of causing panic, we're offering you all one last chance to back out of the front-line duty on this project. You'll still be attached to this program, but will remain Earthside, still subject to the confidentiality agreements you signed. _Earthside_, he thought. _That's going to take some getting used to._

Looking back to the crowd, he spoke once more. "Anyone who wishes to back out is free to do so now."

The crowd began to mill about, the civilians nervously chattering away with each other, many reluctant to leave their lives behind, potentially forever. The soldiers were split, some looking at each other with wide-eyed grins about the possibility of going to other planets hundreds, if not possibly thousands of light-years away from Earth, apparently fans of pulp science fiction magazines, but some of the other, older soldiers shared the reluctance of the civilians. A few people even began to move toward the door.

That was when the sergeant for the squad, an older NCO, walked forward and spoke up, quieting the crowd around him.

"Why do you need us?" he asked. "This seems like something for the civvies. Why take a squad from the front lines for this? It seems kind of wasteful." His tone was serious, but Paul could detect a small, biting undercurrent, as though the officer knew there was more to the situation than what Paul had said.

"Because, while I believe this device makes it clear that we are not alone in the universe, what I haven't made clear is that there is _hostile_ alien life out there."

There was nothing for several seconds, until a private spoke up, his voice cracking into a hoarse tone. "What?"

"We've actually dialed, that is to say, we've actually made a viable, travel-friendly connection with, two planets. The first one, of course, is the planet Dr. Littlefield is on, and the second is a planet he discovered, using a pedestal that appears to be the original control mechanism for the Stargate to make a connection. We sent a small cart with a camera and video transmitter through, and discovered an armored alien entity that stood at almost seven feet tall, including the giant, eagle-shaped helmet it wore. It carried a staff that fired some kind of energy blast, which it used to destroy the cart. The reason we need soldiers is because we're not sure how numerous those things are, and we need to protect the site. That's the main reason we're pushing for this exploration: if those things exist in large numbers on more planets, with the apparent level of technology they have, they are more than likely capable of wiping us out. We could bury the gate like the ancient Egyptians apparently did, stop them from using it to invade, but what if they have ships? What if they can cross the void between the stars easily? There are too many unknowns; we have no choice but to explore and find more technology and tools that we can use to defend the Earth and our homes in the event we find ourselves in a real life War Of The Worlds."

The room was silent for several more seconds, some of the crowd looked at Paul with shock in their eyes, some looked down, and a few even crossed themselves and muttered small prayers. The sergeant just stood still for several more seconds before he spoke again. "So, you need some help keeping the good ol' USA safe from some spacemen? I think the 517th can help you out with that. Am I right, men?" he shouted to the soldiers behind him, who gave him a loud cheer. Turning to face his men, he shouted, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you, soldiers! Is the Airborne going to let some trigger-happy space freaks land their tin cans on Roosevelt's front lawn?! Are we going to let their ugly asses march through that ring?!"

"Sir, no, sir!" the soldiers yelled in unison.

Turning back to Langford, the sergeant gave him a crisp nod. "Alpha Squad is read to depart, sir."

The soldiers took several steps forward and milled closely around the bottom of the gate's ramp. The civilians took more time, still discussing it among themselves, but one by one, they too slowly gravitated toward the ramp. Not one person backed away.

Paul smiled; he nodded to the technicians, who began to rotate the gate. As the soldiers and civilians began to gather their belongings and move the crates into their final positions, Paul took several steps toward the sergeant and lowered his voice.

"Thank you." he said. "I'm not much good at inspiring confidence; I'm glad you're on board with this."

"Doctor Langford," the sergeant said, "I've got a wife and a little boy back home. I'd rather not be stranded on an alien dust ball if at all possible." he said, the faint drawl becoming more evident with his lowered voice. _Definitely Texas_, Paul thought. "But, if this makes sure…" the sergeant gestured with his hand, "that whatever is out there doesn't come here, I'm more than willing to go through that gate and so are my boys. We won't disappoint."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Sergeant…" Paul said, extending his hand. "I apologize; I'm still getting familiar with names."

Clasping Paul's hand, the sergeant gave three sharp pumps before dropping his arm. "Hammond." he said. "Don Hammond."

As the last chevron locked into place, the gate sprung to life, and the wave of energy shot out, startling some of the people present.

"Three things to remember with gate travel!" Paul called over the din. "One: DO. NOT. STAND. In front of that wave; it destroys everything in its path. Two: The gate is one-way only, from origin planet to destination planet. If you try coming back without dialing from your location, you never come out. Finally, keep moving after you emerge; we don't want a traffic jam that could push people back in; we're not eager to find out anything more than the aforementioned never returning thing about what happens in that case. We've packed enough supplies to keep you all self-sufficient for a couple of months, but we'll stay in regular contact and send the odd package through when needed. Good luck, and godspeed!"

Stepping to the side, he watched as Sergeant Hammond slung his Thompson over his shoulder and picked up two large cases. The sergeant stepped up the ramp, stopping just in front of the event horizon. The soldiers behind him wheeled up several crates and held position on the ramp. Taking one last look behind him, Don Hammond stepped through the portal. Soon, the soldiers and civilians all began to follow, and one by one each disappeared beyond the portal and soon the ramp was empty.

"Everyone's through." Ernest's voice said over the radio.

Standing on the ramp until long after the gate shut off, Paul stared at the ring. Everything had moved so fast, and yet it was still going to keep picking up pace. They had been slightly behind schedule bringing the soldiers in, but Paul believed that they would be well worth the extra time. "April 5th, 1945." he mused aloud. "The day we established a base on another planet."

Even though the world didn't know it just yet, humanity had just taken its first great leap into a new era.


	5. Chapter 4

The Stargate Initiative

Chapter 4

The next few days were a blur for Ernest as the new personnel who came through began to set up camp. After the initial large group, a few more smaller groups came through, mostly a couple more squads bringing more gear to establish a more secure foothold and ensure the gate room's safety. Sergeant Hammond made sure to keep all of the soldiers in line, but for the most part, he left the civilians alone, which both relieved and frustrated Ernest to no end. Relieved because he didn't have to butt heads with the military, but frustrated because he was still technically "in-charge" of everything, and he still had very little idea of how to lead a small but growing encampment and expedition in a massive alien structure on a foreign planet. At least the soldiers followed Hammond, but the civilians, the various scientists, technicians, linguists, and other who came through all looked to him for leadership.

Some of it was easy. He deferred to the engineers and technicians to surveying the castle and construction. It was still remarkably stable despite the strong weathering of the stones in the castle. Still, he wanted to take no chances and ordered most of the structural engineers to go over the location and make sure everything would be all right for the short term and reinforce anything that might need reinforcing. The technicians were assigned to start setting up various pieces of equipment for the humans to use. The alien control panels and interfaces were still confusing and no one wanted to chance pressing something until everyone had a firm grasp of what the hell they were saying.

The linguists had been having some difficulty with the location, not helped by the fact that there were two main types of alien writing. The older text on the walls, control panels, and interfaces seemed to be some kind of Latin form, but with its own unique flavors and styles that made it difficult to work off of other known forms of the language as a baseline. The newer text was similarly derived from an Egyptian root, but, once again, had distinct dialectical variations that made it quite distinct from ancient Egyptian on Earth. Still, it seemed like they might be nearing a breakthrough soon, at least with some of the base hieroglyphs of the newer language. He was hoping for something he could give back to the professor in a future report.

Currently, he was pinning his hopes on the strange device he had found further back in the base. He'd noticed that, as he went further and further from the gate room, the newer writing quickly disappeared, and the older one remained. In the room with the light projector device, they'd encountered an additional three languages, all far more alien in origin and completely indecipherable at this point, in addition to the Latin-like one. When he had first activated the device, the symbols that appeared in the air confused him. Quickly, however, he'd realized that each dot of light was actually an atom; the single proton-electron pair of hydrogen had given him the clue. But there were far more elements here than Earth had known about. It had to be some kind of constructed language, using one of the most basic concepts of physics and chemistry, something that any advanced race would have knowledge of. If they could find something that helped make it clear what each element was associated with in terms of this form of communication, maybe they could crack it. If they could figure it out, or just figure out what else lay in the device, then who knew what the team could discover.

Another issue, however, had come up when they realized that the planet didn't have the same rotational period as Earth; their estimates put its day at 26 hours. They would have to work out clocks specifically for the planet if they intended their operation to have any long-term synchronicity with the planet's timetables.

As Ernest stood around tapping his notepad with his pen, he looked up to see the progress the military teams were making. Most were moving about silently, doing their best to fortify the gate room. Hammond was supervising the men installing a couple of thirty cals to a fallen beam. Other soldiers were pulling pre-filled sandbags from one of the wheeled crates and setting up nests and cover to hide behind. All Ernest knew was that it had been incredibly difficult to pull several large crates that weighed so much through the gate. They'd set up the middle room in between the sleeping quarters, hologram room, and gate room as an armory to store all the weapons. The sergeant (with Ernest's permission, of course) had started training some of the civilians in handgun usage, using the large window openings as a backdrop and some empty C-ration cans as targets. With unknown potential aliens out there, and at least one known hostile force, and no reliable way to physically return to Earth yet, it seemed like a logical thing to do. Ernest himself was rapidly getting familiar with the M1911, though a few service revolvers were also in the arsenal and favored by some of the personnel. A couple of technicians were even training with some of the spare Garands that were brought through. The fact that they received semi-regular supply shipments from Earth meant that they could afford to expend some of the spare ammunition to train.

As he continued to watch the soldiers set up the fortifications near the gate room, Sergeant Hammond walked over and rested his back against the pillar next to Ernest. He pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Ernest. "Dr. Littlefield, we've finished up the inventory of what we have out there," he gestured to the gate room fortifications, "and what we have in the gate room as surplus."

"Excellent!" Ernest said, flipping over to a blank page in his notebook; he preferred to have everything written down, and preferably multiple copies. "What have we got?"

"Well, it's a mix of good news and bad news. Good news is that we won't be hurting for ammo, even with all the extra training. We've got plenty of boxes and spare cartridges, as well as plenty of spare belts for the MGs. In addition, in the event of an attack, we have enough small arms to make sure everyone in the base will have at least one weapon. The room above makes for natural high ground, so we've stuck a couple of MGs up there, and we have two men patrolling with B.A.R.s as well. If anything comes through, the upper floor can rain down death. Then you have our lower fortifications. We have interlocking sections of sandbags, using some of the fallen beams as a supplement. We've fastened another set of MGs down here to help."

"What's the bad news?"

"Well, it's kind of a quantity and quality problem. Specifically, the quality of some weapons and our lack of some other pieces of gear." Hammond said, flipping over his paper. "We only have the four MGs, and we've already fastened them down, but truth be told, we could probably do with a couple more, even set up a few additional safe points in this castle if we want. In addition, we have no heavy explosives, no bazookas, only a handful of grenades, and just the two B.A.R.s. We also have no shotguns, and, given that this is a castle, they're something we're probably going to want if we are truly going to make this castle as defensible as possible. Plus, shotguns are something else that the civilians can use; they're easier to use and train with, and you don't really need to be that accurate. In terms of quality … Well, the MGs we're using are Model 1917's, and while they're fine, I'd prefer the 1919's. They use the same caliber, but the latter has a better cooling rate. They're both light machine guns, and I'd like us to have one or two M2's if possible; short of a tank, nothing can withstand a fifty-caliber bullet.

"In terms of our fortifications… well, we're doing our best, but, to be totally honest, Doctor, for a castle, this place is remarkably open. The gate room itself is fairly contained, and that can work against us as well since it's reasonably close from the gate to the sandbags. If a group had a really dedicated charge, or if they could more something well-armored through first, then a lot of our effectiveness might be reduced. If they can overwhelm the sandbags, it's a straight shot to the stairs. This is all assuming conventional, human tactics as well; if we're dealing with aliens, who knows what sort of contraptions they might have and what kind of tactics their technologies favor."

As Ernest finished scribbling down the sergeant's words, he surveyed the room. Hammond was right; the sandbags were only a few yards from the gate. While concentrated fire would certainly be deadly, he could see the sergeant's viewpoint, that some kind of protection moving ahead of the invaders could negate a lot of the combat effectiveness of the machine guns. Tapping his pen to the notepad, he looked over at the sergeant.

"I'll definitely see about most of these, the shotguns, B.A.R.s, and machine guns. Professor Langford mentioned that Roosevelt approved more funding and requisition for us, with the European theater of operations winding down, some supplies can afford to be diverted, so we should get at least some of that. The explosives, I'm not sure about. We're still not entirely sure how stable this castle is and we're not quite willing to risk having stuff that could bring it down on top of us, but, again, it's alien engineering and construction, so if we can figure out that this thing isn't going to collapse if we set off an explosion or two, we might be able to get more decent explosives." Ernest said.

Hammond nodded as he stood straight up and began to walk back toward his men. "I appreciate that, Dr. Littlefield. Thank you for hearing me out." he said.

As Ernest began to write in his notepad once more, one of the linguists assigned to the team came running up the stairs. Running toward the gate, he leaped over a half-complete sandbag foxhole to the annoyance of the soldiers he'd jumped over and ran to the gate. Wheeling around, he looked up at one of the horizontal beams still attached to the ceiling and began to furiously write in his notepad.

Curious, Ernest walked over to him, reaching the linguist just as he finished writing. Racking his brains, Ernest tried to remember the man's name. It started with an S.

"Dr. Littlefield!" he said, looking over at Ernest and breaking the expedition leader's concentration. "I was going over the hieroglyphs in the hallway leading to the light room when I noticed a pattern. Now, these patterns are very similar to an ancient dialect that was written near Giza and Saqqara, though some records of it also exist in archives pulled from ruins in Memphis. Now, by backtracking and ascribing some of the hieroglyphs that had the same meaning on Earth, I made a rough outline of a translator for the Egyptian here. It's not perfect, and there might be some gaps, especially with some of the more complicated sentences and sentence structures, which is why I came here, where the big and simple sentence was written above the gate an…" the linguist took a pause to remember to inhale at last. Ernest looked up at the hieroglyphs on the beam, he hadn't noticed them before.

"Huh. Didn't see those when I came through, though my helmet might have blocked some of that." he thought aloud.

"Are you kidding? Those were the first things I saw!" the linguist said, thrusting his notepad into Ernest's hands. "That's the translation I've worked out; took a few tries to get it right, though, but I'm sure this is it."

"Thanks …er." Ernest said, looking at the notes.

"Stevens, Robert Stevens!" the linguist said, not looking away from the hieroglyphs.

Looking down, Ernest saw the note, complete with scribbles and struck-through sentences:

The Glorious Summer Palace of Ra! Dominion of Land

Center of Worship, Temple of Ra!

Heliopolis, Land of Ra

Temple of Ra, Heliopolis

Prize of Ra, Heliopolis Tem

Until the final, circled sentence caught his eye:

THE GRAND TEMPLE OF HELIOPOLIS, PRIZE OF THE SUPREME LORD RA

The Castle finally had a name …


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Ra? As in the Egyptian god Ra?" Professor Langford asked incredulously.

"Yes, Professor. Ra. We're sure of it." Ernest said.

"Are you saying that Ra was real?"

"Not at all, Professor. Well, not a real god, in any case. More likely, an alien entity who either assumed the identity of Ra or inspired him in the first place. Either way, the wording of the title for this place, coupled with the obvious signs that the Egyptian text was added later, suggests that this Ra entity captured it from its previous owners, and, apparently, abandoned it later."

"Ernest, do you realize the implications of what you're saying? If he didn't assume the identity of Ra, if he actually inspired the Egyptian belief system … It's safe to say he isn't the only one. After all, the ancient Egyptians were polytheistic. And we have no idea how long whatever kind of alien Ra may have been lives for. For all we know, Ra is traipsing around some other corner of the galaxy right now."

"Professor, thinking about it has kept me up all night. I know what I'm saying. I understand the implications of what I'm saying. Also, I know it may be based on circumstantial evidence, but a recurring thing in Egyptian mythology is animal heads on human bodies. Horus and Thoth, for example, both had bird heads."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, son?"

"I think I am, Professor. It's entirely possible that the Eagle Warrior you caught on film is a servant of one of those 'gods.' I know it's not a pleasant thought, but we have to consider the likelihood of it. If nothing else, it's possible that his religion worships the same entity."

* * *

Sergeant Hammond and Ernest were sitting at a table, hunched over some diagrams that one of the engineers had made. It was a map of the area surrounding the gate room, including the recent fortifications. They were talking about further possibilities for defense when two people, one a soldier, the other an engineer, walked over. The engineer cleared his throat, and Ernest and Don looked at them. The engineer was clutching a notepad nervously.

"Something you boys want to say?" the sergeant asked. The two subordinates nodded. "Well, don't just stand there! Spit it out."

The soldier, a corporal who's nametag read Simmons, spoke. "Sir, I've been thinking about how to defend this place better, and so has Alfred here. We were talking, and we realized something. There are two main ways to handle the risk of an alien invasion through the Stargate. Repulsion, forcing them to retreat or surrender…"  
The engineer, Alfred, took over. "And prevention, keeping them from coming through in the first place." he placed the notepad down, showing that the page it was open to had a diagram on it. "I give you the Stargate Incursion Prevention System, or SIPS. You see, we drill into the ceiling above and immediately in front of the Stargate, sink some hooks into it. We put a bar on those hooks. Coming down from the bar is either a grate of bars welded together on this side, or a solid plate, again, welded together from smaller segments sent through the gate from Earth. You attach a cable to the bottom of the cover, which then runs up to a pulley suspended from another beam. It goes over the pulley, and connects to a motorized winch. When the cover is lowered, anything that comes through will hit it and rebound into the gate, thereby being neutralized. For added security, drill some holes into the dais and attach some bolts to the plate that can slide into the holes to anchor it at the base so it doesn't just swing open. Now, the obvious downside is that you have to wait until the gateway is established to drop it, or the energy wave will vaporize the barrier."

"So, standard operating procedure would involve dropping the barrier every time a connection is made?" Hammond asked.

"Yes, sir. And before you ask about the possibility of friendlies coming through and getting bounced back in, I've already thought of that. You give each group that you send through a radio and a single-use return code that they have to send over the radio to have us lift the barricade. It could be a code phrase or even just a bit of Morse code. Either way, something that would definitively verify the identity of the team coming through."

"Lowering the barrier mechanically with the winch would be slow." Ernest said.

"That's why you have a winch that you can just flip into an unlocked, free-rotating setting. Gravity and the barrier's own weight will slam the door shut." Alfred said.

Simmons spoke. "Also, sir, we need to conduct an experiment regarding the gate. The results of this experiment will determine the viability of an additional defensive possibility."

"What kind of experiment?" Hammond asked

"We want to shoot a bullet at an open gate from behind." Simmons replied

"What?" Ernest interjected.

"So far, we've observed that the gateway appears to only deposit matter out of one side. Add to that the fact that you can't see through the portal when it's active, and think about the possibilities. You can set up a weapon behind the gate. It opens, enemies somehow blast their way through the barrier, they come through … and a machine gun mows them down from behind. Sending some kind of protection through first isn't going to work when the threat comes from behind. But that will only work if objects can pass through the back of the wormhole unaffected." Alfred said.

"I'll talk to Earth about the experiment. Just one bullet, right?" Ernest asked

"That's right. At least, to start with." Simmons said.

"What?" Hammond asked.

"Sir, even if one bullet can pass through unaffected, we would have no idea if a significant amount of ammo would alter the results. I want to let a machine gun have a couple of seconds of fire." Simmons said.

"We're willing to wait until we've found two additional addresses, so that we can conduct the experiment without risking potential harm to Earth or Heliopolis. Simply put an observation team on either end, and you're good to go." Alfred said.

"We'll pass the suggestion on to Earth." Sergeant Hammond said. "Anything else?"

"No, sir." Simmons said, and the two departed.

Hammond looked at Ernest. "Pretty good suggestion, blocking the gate." he said.

"Yes, it is. I'm sure Earth will approve. They may even implement a similar precaution on their end. Just in case any of the hostiles out there decide to check and see if they can get to Earth … Assuming they have Earth's address, of course." Ernest said.

"We need to start thinking about how we're going to go about exploration when we have more locations to go to." Hammond said. "I've been thinking: take two of the squads, assign linguists and scientists to them, and then start sending them through the gate. Obviously, it's far too risky to send them through to ES-2 right now, since there may be a lot more of those Eagle Warrior bastards there, so I figure we start trying more combinations with the pedestal. Get a few pressurized atmospheric diving suits, make sure they're top-quality models. See if we can get a few more camera probes built and sent out here. If we find a viable connection, send a probe through to confirm that the path is clear and the gate isn't in some position that'll kill someone we send through, then send a gate diver through to test the conditions. Maybe get a bunch of lab rats, put one in an open-air cage, and send it through with each gate diver. If it dies, we know the conditions are fatal, and if it doesn't, we know it's safe to send a scouting team through. I'd recommend we lose identifiable uniforms, though. Any kind of indicator about Earth could be problematic in the event of capture by hostile forces. Eventually, however, we're going to have to risk going to ES-2 in any case."

"Why?" Ernest asked, although he had an inkling of an idea of what the sergeant's reasoning was.

"Information. We need prisoners for that. We'll have to send a team to ES-2 and attempt to capture at least one Eagle Warrior and kill any that we can't take alive; we can't risk word of us getting back to others. Even dead, though, we can still learn things from them; I'm sure some people would love to do an alien autopsy. Take the dead back with us as well as the prisoners, and we can begin knowing our enemy. And maybe leave the enemy wondering what the hell happened. They use energy weapons, after all; what's to say they'll even know about projectile weapons like firearms? As far as they're concerned, it may be like a bunch of their people just disappeared. Maybe they'll wonder at what could do something like that."

"Hmm, that all sounds good." Ernest said as he finished inking down the suggestions. "For the diving suits, enclosed atmospheric systems are a definite plus over the standard diving dress. Don't want to risk a scare like I had when I stepped through. Different uniforms I can get behind as well, I'll see what we can come up with. You mentioned teams for exploration, we'll need to figure out team size and composition. We now have three squads here, so thirty six soldiers. Do we want to send a full strength squad through when we explore? If we're going to be adding a linguist and scientist to the group then we'd have 14 people going through, which while I know I'm not the most well versed person in military matters, could be a bit cumbersome. On the other hand, more people give more security for off world operations, heck we could probably leave a small detachment to guard the gate while another group explores."

"That's a good point, smaller numbers can generally enable faster movement, but leaves more room open for problems to happen. I like the idea of being able to keep some guys around to secure the gate while others go out. Again we'll have to hammer out some more of the details later, and I'll talk to my men to get some ideas, but I think we might have to approach this with a safety in numbers mentality." The two men talked for several more minutes figuring out more details about deployments, compositions and other miscellaneous book keeping matters.

* * *

The next day, it looked like the defenses might get their first test, and the 517th would get some more combat. The next scheduled check-in from Earth wasn't for another day, so when the gate started to activate, the automatic conclusion was the possibility of an incursion. The defenses were manned and ready for combat. The energy wave exploded outward, and it had barely dissipated when Professor Langford's voice came over the radio. "This is Professor Paul Langford. Ernest, are you there?"

Ernest answered the call. "Yes, Paul. I'm here. What is it? The scheduled check in isn't until tomorrow."

"Roosevelt's dead, Ernest." Paul gate room, which had been buzzing with murmured speculation from the people present, fell deathly quiet, a comparison which Ernest found oddly appropriate. He couldn't think for a few moments, finally managing a "What?"

"He died earlier today." Paul said. "Truman's taking over. I'm scheduled to brief him on this whole operation tomorrow. He knows some of the details already, I've been told, but not the full scope of things. Not the enormity of the potential threat. I hope that we've got enough to convince him to keep us operational."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Dr. Langford was not good at waiting. While he was always happy to have time for his thoughts, actively sitting around with them was something he didn't quite enjoy. Sitting in the hallway chair, he drummed his fingers against the side of his briefcase and waited some more. It didn't help that his nerves were showing a bit; this meeting would be critical to the program.

He'd started the project with permission from President Roosevelt; most of the early equipment and contributions were items that the president had authorized to program via executive orders, and once things started to pick up, more and more resources were allocated accordingly via several more such orders. It helped that, with the war, shifting some supplies around the nation hadn't been too difficult. In addition, the setup allowed the chain of supply to remain relatively uncomplicated and straightforward; Langford would send a message to the president, and results would happen. It had been a good system, and one he'd enjoyed.

Sadly, Roosevelt had passed away two days prior.

Professor Paul Langford was disappointed by the fact that the uncomplicated method of acquiring supplies for his program was gone, but, more importantly, he was saddened that a good friend, and one who had shared many professional and academic interests, was now gone. He'd mourned for his friend, and the base, as well as Heliopolis (as many were calling it now, in keeping with the know name that once been used as the place's title), had had a day of mourning to honor the president.

Paul had received the call that he knew was coming several hours after Franklin's death. The new president was calling him in to explain what exactly was going on in the warehouse. The meeting had been put off for a day to allow the president to get brought up to speed on a number of other programs and plans that were apparently considered a good deal more important and at least as classified and restricted access as the Stargate. In that time, Paul had prepared a small film reel detailing several of the main discoveries made on the base and on Heliopolis (the techs had gotten a wireless transmitter up and running, so limited video feeds could be sent back and recorded for posterity). He had the documents and various proposals in the briefcase as well. He hoped that it would be enough. It had to be.

He returned to drumming his fingers on the briefcase as he continued to wait. A secretary was busy typing away at her desk, glancing up periodically and smiling, as though to reassure Paul that everything would be all right. After several more minutes, the phone at her desk rang. Without skipping a beat, she picked it up: "Yes?… Okay, I'll send him in, Mr. President." Looking to Paul, she set the phone down and smiled once more. "The President will see you now, Dr. Langford."

Nodding, Paul stood up and walked to the heavy oak door. Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and entered the Oval Office. Harry Truman was sitting at his desk, several papers in front of him, with maps and details and equations Paul didn't know about. Standing next to Truman were General George Marshall and Secretary of War Henry Stimson. Seeing Paul enter, the president deftly collected the papers and arranged them in a neat stack to the side.

"…We'll discuss the device and testing later, thank you for getting me caught up. Now to this next matter." Standing up, the president extended his hand as Paul approached the desk. "Dr. Langford, thank you for coming in. Sorry the meeting got pushed back; I had a lot of catching up to do … and a lot of big shoes to fill."

"I understand, Mr. President." Paul said, taking Truman's hand and returning two quick shakes before sitting. "I'm just happy I was brought in to bring you up to speed on my program."

"Ah, yes, let's get right down to business then. George has been telling me that one of our airborne divisions has been getting rerouted back here, and that several million dollars' worth of supplies have been shifted over to your program … which according to our records doesn't officially exist. I wanted George and Henry here so that everything could be explained more thoroughly. Doctor, would you please enlighten us as to what's going on?"

Nodding, Paul set his briefcase down and opened it. He extracted the film reel and set it down. "Certainly. Would you mind if I borrowed a film projector?"

"No problem." The president said, motioning to his guards. One of them opened a door and wheeled out a small projector on a pedestal, while the other guard dimmed the lights. Paul hooked the reel up and positioned the project so that it projected against the far wall. Paul waited several seconds for it to warm up before it started, first with a shot of the inactive gate in the warehouse.

"Two decades ago, in 1928, myself and a small archeology team discovered this ring-shaped artifact in Giza, Egypt. We had no clue what it was or what the markings on it signified. We've spent many years trying to figure out what it does." The reel began to show the gate technicians attaching cords and rotating the ring. "We could move the inner symbols, but had no idea what it would do. During a random test, we noticed that it would respond to large quantities of power, so we began to hook up generators to it to see what would happen. This went on for a while, our random input of symbols, until earlier this year." The reel shifted to the day when they activated the gate. The seventh symbol locked, and the gate activated, sending out the large wave of energy before retreating and forming a tranquil pool in the gate's center.  
The president's eyebrow raised slightly, but none of the men said anything. Paul continued as the reel showed Ernest suiting up in the diving gear and preparing to step through. "My future son-in-law, Doctor Ernest Littlefield, volunteered to go through. Once he stepped beyond the gate… he was transported to another world, and I mean that in the literal sense. The device, now definitively alien in origin, sent him to another planet, a fact he ascertained by the absence of the moon and any known constellations at his location.

The reel cut to the interior of Heliopolis. Several soldiers were milling about. Then the control room, with the strange, illuminated panels, and then again to the light projector room, in its active state, with one scientist moving amongst the swirling shapes.

"For almost a month now, we've been establishing some form of operations on Heliopolis, the name we've given the planet. For the most part, at first, it was just Ernest, unable to return, exploring the location. At the start of the month, though, we sent the first of several groups through the gate. Scientist, technicians, linguists, and soldiers…"

The reel cut to its final few moments, the part Langford considered most important: the makeshift probe's video feed shortly before its destruction. Paul heard several sharp intakes of breath when the creature with the staff shot several bolts of light at the camera before it cut off.

"While Ernest tried to reconnect with earth, dialing blindly much as we had, he found a second gate address. We sent a small cart with a camera and transmitter through. That's what was on the other side. That's why we've been appropriating military resources for the project and 'borrowing' one of the airborne divisions." Paul explained as he disconnected the reel from the camera and placed it in its tin before setting it down on the president's desk. The three men were staring at Paul, all three quite serious, but with a hint of surprise behind their eyes. Paul decided to give them a moment or two to soak up the information and process it.

The President removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose for several seconds before taking a breath and replacing his glasses. Speaking slowly, he looked at Paul. "So, professor, what you're telling me is that the United States is in possession of an ancient alien device capable of sending people across the stars to other planets?"

"That's correct, Mr. President, though I suspect that Roosevelt left you some notes about it."

"He did. His note under you and your project simply said _Hold onto your pants, Harry, this one's a doozy._ Well … looks like he was right." Pausing for several more seconds, he looked to his two advisors, and then to Paul.

"Well, first things first. The security implications. What the hell was that thing we saw in the film that shot those blasts at the camera?"

"Currently, we don't know with absolute certainty, but we suspect that that particular alien individual might be some kind of soldier or servant of Ra or another god." Paul said, and then silently kicked himself for having forgotten to mention their alien god theory.

"What?" All three men exclaimed before the president spoke again. "Doctor Langford, are you telling me not only are the ancient Egyptian gods real, but they're hostile?!"

"Not exactly, Mr. President. I apologize for forgetting to mention this, again, I only had a day to prepare, but in the Heliopolis site, we found two ancient texts, an older one that appears to be some form of Latin, and another, newer one that is strongly Egyptian. We've gotten a rough translation of some of the Egyptian text, and, according to it, the location was claimed by 'The Supreme Lord Ra.' We don't believe that Ra is an actual god, but perhaps an advanced alien who used technology to pose as one and subjugate the Egyptians thousands of years ago. Given that there were multiple Egyptian gods and a recurrent theme of animal heads on human bodies, and well…" he trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air.

"Doctor Langford, if these … gods … are real, then why do we still have this gate operational? It seems like a huge risk to have a gateway to Earth that… Ra or one of these other beings could return from."

"Basically, Mr. President, we've been operating under Occam's Razor. Since we know we're dealing with a race of aliens who possess technology powerful enough to pose as gods, it stands to reason that they have means other than the Stargate for travel. Even if we stopped all activity and buried our gate like the Egyptians apparently did, for all we know, there might be an alien armada out there that they could send. I admit, if these aliens did rule Earth at one point, but we buried the gate, I'm not sure as to why they didn't return in said hypothetical ships, but, again, it stands to reason that they more likely would have the capability than not."

"That's a valid point, but that still leaves a massive doorway that an army can march through."

"We're actually working on some theories about that as well. The Stargates only allow travel in one direction, from origin gate to destination gate, and anything that enters the wrong end doesn't come out, so we're experimenting with putting some kind of barrier in front of the gate. Some of our scientists theorize that an obstruction close enough to the gate won't allow matter to emerge, or will allow it to emerge, but bounce it back into the one-way connection of the gate, where it is apparently destroyed. Plus, while the gate is large, it does present a limitation on what can be sent through, and how much can be sent through at a time. For example, we could fit a Sherman fairly comfortably through the gate, but larger war equipment would be difficult. While we don't know how small the alien's technology and weapons are, it stands to reason that they, too, can't fit all their heavy toys through the gate. And people can only travel through in rows four or five people wide." Ernest said.

"Plus, Mr. President, with some good planning, you can turn this Stargate into a natural choke point with a highly effective kill zone. With good crossfire and explosives, it would be difficult to breach through, assuming out weapons can hurt these things." General Marshall said, speaking up.

Secretary Stimson looked down for another second at the documents in the briefcase before speaking up. "The potential technological gain alone … Mr. President, this is a rare opportunity for the United States, unique would probably be a better word in fact. While the alien technology is unknown, if we can secure even a fraction of the potential of what could be offered, the possibilities are endless. We can ensure the safety of our nation, and, coupled with the device, we could potentially stand at a new global age of peace. There is risk, but the potential gain is enormous." he said, with Marshall nodding in agreement. "And another thing. There are apparently hostile aliens out there. We presumably do not stand a chance against them at this point. The logical thing to do is attempt to rectify that situation while trying to minimize the risk of stepping on the wrong toes."

Looking to his two advisers, Truman nodded. "Okay… if you two think it's worth it, then we'll go for it. I'll need you two to coordinate with Dr. Langford to get him what he needs. For now let's keep this between the three of us, though I suspect more people will need to be brought up to speed, especially your fellow Chiefs of Staff." Turning to Paul, he continued, "Well, it's been a long time since I was in the National Guard, so I tend to defer to those two for advice on these matters. We'll continue to support your program, Professor Langford. We'll have to finagle the budget a bit, but we can take a hit or two there. Roosevelt gave you several million to work with and run the project out of the warehouse. I'm giving you one hundred million to make an effective base and work this out."

Paul sucked in a lungful of air at the thought of so much money. He didn't know what to say.

"However, there are a few of caveats to this, Professor. First, keeping such a dangerous device in a warehouse won't work. As I said, I want you to build a base out of this. General Marshall can coordinate with you on the details, but I want this thing in a secure location a good distance away from where civilians might get hurt or accidentally stumble upon it."

"We're building some testing facilities in the Southwest; I'm sure we can build one more … test site, and not be noticed. If you can have your people draw up some plans for how to house this thing, I can get the engineers to start working on this, though it may take some time." the general said.

"Which brings me to my second caveat. Until we have a secure location for the gate, I want a moratorium on all travel to unknown locations from Earth until the base is complete. It's just too risky to use Earth as a travel hub until we have everything secure. Use Heliopolis as an exploration springboard, but do so carefully."

Paul simply nodded in agreement; he still sometimes felt shivers when he thought of the probe that had been destroyed by the alien. "We will be limited in our options for several years, Mr. President, but I can agree to that, especially with that kind of a budget."

"I've been thinking," Stimson said, "if we're going to need a dedicated military force to protect our assets on Earth and on other planets we might use, we might as well dedicate a full division to the effort. Obviously, since this will be a slow build-up, it does not need to happen all at once, but, since we're already using parts of the 13th airborne for Stargate defense, we might as well dedicate the entire division to it. We can slowly weed out the members who would not be suited for the task and bring in other soldiers whom we might find useful."

"That's a good idea, Mr. Secretary." Marshall said, nodding in agreement. "I know a lot of the boys in the 13th have been annoyed at being grounded, so this will give the unit purpose, and it'll keep it from being put on Congress's chopping block." he finished under his breath.

All nodding in agreement, the president pulled up a paper. "Well, we'll need a designation for this project. While calling it something like the Stargate Initiative might be accurate, I'd prefer not to give any hints at what this might be. So, for our budget, this will be placed under the category of Area 52."

After several more minutes of discussion, the four men finalized details for America's newest officially classified program. Satisfied, they exchanged handshakes, and Paul prepared to leave as the man in charge of a multimillion-dollar program. As he stood to leave, Truman spoke up "We'll probably have to reassess the budget for your program in a year or two, but be prepared to operate on this amount for a while, the war is starting to wind down, Germany is one the ropes, and Japan…Well that might be a bit longer, but it's an inevitable result. Anyways, we can get away with the budget for a bit, but eventually Congress is going to have to be brought up to speed, even if it's just a few oversight members. I'd prefer you to have everything ready before our fellow representatives start arguing over how to use the thing and how much should be given to it. Good luck Professor."

General Marshall approached him. "Dr. Langford, who was the soldier you said was in charge of the men at Heliopolis?" he asked.

"Sergeant Don Hammond, general." Paul replied.

"Well, given that the location is cut off for a while, and the 13th will be restructured, senior officers will be at a premium. So, when you send your next supply shipment, can you send these through to the Sergeant?" he said as he pulled out a small case and opened it. Inside was a new set of insignia, each one a single golden bar. "I'm officially bumping him up a couple of pay grades to Second Lieutenant. Tell him to keep up the good work."

Smiling, Paul took the insignia and shook General Marshall's hand. Things were looking up for the program.

As soon as Paul left, the three men looked at each other for several seconds before Marshall broke the silence.

"…Well, that went way differently than I thought it would. Truth be told, I thought this was just going to be some archaeological boondoggle…shows what I know."

"Indeed" Stimson replied, puling up a chair. "I am of course worried about those beings that video showed, but again, the sheer possibilities are endless."

"Agreed, however gentlemen, we have a bigger question…are we going to let our friends in on this?"

"Mr. President?" Marshall asked.

"Britain, France, you know, our allies. This is obviously a monumental discovery and has the potential to shape the world in an incalculable amount of ways, the thing is, this project needs to stay secret, lord knows how people would react if they found out spacemen could be on our doorstep tomorrow. However, trying to keep it solely in our hands and hoarding whatever we might find strikes me as a recipe for disaster. If we get found out, best case we alienate ourselves from the entire world, worst case … war."

"Well, we could always bring the French, British and Soviets in on it, they could provide additional assistance and funding" Marshall replied.

"Yeah, but Churchill will go frothing out the mouth if we try and bring Stalin in on the program, Stalin…well who knows what that man will want or do." Stimson rebutted.

"Hm…perhaps we might want to wait and see for a while."

"Mr. President?" both other men asked.

"We obviously can't keep our allies in the dark about this, they will know about it eventually. But for now, with the war and our immediate efforts to stabilize what's left of Asia and Europe, it might be best to hold off on telling them anything. Plus it gives the Professor more time to finish up a base to house the thing. Plus this gives the man a chance to actually prove his program…"

Moscow- 3 days later

Agent Pavel Borodin pored over the files in front of him. In the dim light of the NKGB headquarters' poor lighting, he struggled to make sense of the information. While most of the state's efforts were going towards destroying Hitler's foul empire, they still had assets and other sources of information in other nations. Pavel was one of several agents in charge of figuring out what was happening in America. His specialty was trying to divine the capitalists' intentions by going over their receipts and other government reports and appropriations that found their way into Pavel's hands.

Glancing at this latest missive, it would appear that a new program was being initiated and was given a surprisingly large sum of money. This wasn't the first one he'd seen, or even the largest (that belonged to the nearly two billion dollar project he was having similarly poor luck with), but the fact that it was tied to only one location raised an eyebrow.  
"Gah!" he exclaimed after several more frustrating minutes. His office partner, Boris, glanced over.

"Trouble, Pavel?" he asked in a singsong voice. "Still trying to figure out what the Americans are up to with their money?"

"What do you think, Boris?!" he snapped as he sighed and took a long drink of coffee. Boris had it easier; all he had to do was listen to their media and try to guess what was happening by what the mouthpieces of the bourgeois were saying.

"Don't fret, my friend. We'll figure it out. Besides," he said, gesturing to the two documents on Pavel's desk, "We still have to figure out what they've been spending that two billion on before we fret about one hundred million…"


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

July 7th, 1945

As the excavator took the first large shovelful of and dirt from the ground, Paul Langford marveled at how much had changed in such a short amount of time. The war in Europe had ended several weeks ago, and Japan was in its death knell. While he was happy that the horrific war was nearing its end, Paul was also pleased at the numerous resources that were becoming available to him and his program, and various military deployments to Europe were being cancelled, or shifted around to focus on Japan. While the logistics train of the United States was a marvel, it was still imperfect, and the occasional shipment of supplies or soldiers had "gone missing" when they were appropriated for the Program. In addition, Truman had discussed his plan to bring the British onboard with the program as well, he planned on letting them know during the conference he was going to in newly defeated Germany later in the month. Paul was surprised how quickly another nation was being brought on board, but agreed with Truman's logic, this gate was a matter of importance for the entire globe and while it was prudent to see as much advancement go to America as possible, not informing other nations about it, and its potential hazards, would be horribly irresponsible, and the British had proven to be a stalwart ally during the war and a good friend to America, despite what Kennedy kept trying to stir up. Having them would be a boon also, given that many of the academics in England specialized in Egyptology and would be great assistance in figuring out more about Ra's people, to say nothing of the military aid that would be brought over as well. Returning his gaze downward, he looked at the papers spread across the hood of the jeep.

Dr. Langford was actually quite proud of the plans for the new facility as he and the engineers poured over the finalized blue prints for the base, which was to be located in a patch of Nevada desert . Originally they were thinking somewhere in Colorado, potentially near the airbase near Colorado Springs, but the area had already been claimed by Fort Carson and not wanting to disclose too much information they would have to do to wrestle the area away, it was decided to move further west. They had settled for a large patch of undeveloped land a few dozen miles north of Las Vegas, and fortuitously, there was still a rather large construction presence in the area owing to build up around Las Vegas, as well as the remnants from the Boulder Dam construction a while back. In addition, the nearby Las Vegas Army Airfield provided a potentially secure area off site that could come to assist in the event the main compound was compromised in any way. In addition, various areas around the base site were earmarked for military use and development as well, so most likely their humble abode would be sharing space with other locations that could serve as secondary lines of defense, as well as masks to help shield the base's true purpose.

Ernest and the others at Heliopolis, including newly promoted 2nd Lieutenant Hammond, had helped as much as they could, drawing up basic plans and using the video link to show Earth. The final result for the gate room was quite impressive. Their main priority was twofold; first it was to make a base that could easily serve as a defensive stronghold in case of incursion from the Stargate, while also still being large enough to allow it to serve as a transit terminal for future exploration and possible expansion out of the Stargate. Ernest and his people had delivered on a strong initial concept for the base: the hallways of the facility were large enough to drive tanks through with ease, but with all pathways leading to the Stargate following a downwards sloping fashion. According to Hammond, this would allow defenders to continually hold the high ground from any incursion, which would have to climb up small inclines to gain access to the rest of the base The main facilities of the base were also located underground, these would consist of barracks, several recreational areas, including a gym, swimming pool, and library, a mess hall, the gate room, plenty of storage areas, all other necessary facilities, and armories that looked like they were supposed to supply a front-line position over in Europe.

The layout of the facility would be fairly simple. A total of four levels were planned, with the gate room located on the lowest one. The room was in essence, a long empty corridor with the Stargate located at the very end. Reminding Langford of the dirigible hangers back east, this cavernous room would protrude from the base so that no facilities would be built above it (for the most part). At the other end of the chamber, in the small area that was to be built below the main base, were to be a series of lifts and elevators, in addition to the ramps that lead to the next level. It was planned that in the event of an off world team needing assistance; the vehicles in the bay above could be rapidly lowered into the gate room in conjunction with vehicles coming down the ramp. This was applied to the base in general, thinking long-term, the corridors were big enough to drive tanks through, complete with ramps to allow them to drive between the levels, and there were plans for a vehicle housing area to be attached to the gate room in the future. The gate room itself was, to put it bluntly, a kill-box. It was roughly a hundred and fifty feet long, and just wide enough for the gate to fit.

There was a second story, accessible only from outside the gate room, that ran along the edge of the room, a U-shaped ledge on top of which would be mounted several machine guns, with enough cover to allow several dozen troops with rifles to hide as well, Running behind the long walls of the gate room, evidenced only by the tall, narrow slits, all angled toward the gate and staggered so that you'd have to really try to hit someone in the corridor on the other side of the gate room, through which machine gun and rifle barrels would protrude, were defensive corridors, designed to provide as much cover as possible to those in them. Near the end of the room where the exit was, two additional machine guns would be planted. There were several indentations in the floor where shaped-charge anti-tank explosives would be placed. In a stroke of barbaric genius, the suggestion had been made by a clearly sadistic corporal to rig up a flamethrower at the base of the ramp, serviceable by a crawlspace underneath. Or put it to one side of the gate. Either way, "Roast the alien bastards before they can even look around," had been the corporal's words. They were still considering that possibility. Finally, a swing-down barrier raised by electric winch would be installed. The winch would be housed in the ceiling, completely concealed by the barrier when the barrier was not in active position, to keep it safe from damage. The doors at the gate room's exit could be blocked by thick plates that would roll across them on motors and wheel tracks. Overall, if an alien decided to send his troops through and Earth's weapons could affect them, the only thing he'd be doing was sending them into a meat grinder.

They also had the last ditch failsafe as well. The plan was to line four fifths of the chamber's roof and upper walls with explosives which could be detonated in the event control of the base was lost. In that case, the ceiling above the gate would cave in, filling the entire room with sand and dirt, burying the gate and hopefully preventing its use. In addition, a number of shaped explosive charges would be placed on the outer ring of the gate, at the top on the front, and on the bottom on the back, designed to go off before the charges that would collapse the gateroom to attempt to land the gate on its back and use gravity as a weapon so that anything coming out fell back in.

The third level was the nerve center of the base. A control room was located near the gate, so that it had a small view above the sole entrance to the gate room. Inside would be charts, maps, radios, and there were even talks of a computer. This room would serve as the coordination center of the base, as well as off world operations. In addition, the main armory was on this level, while there were several other smaller ones that would be located near the barracks, this one would be the main repository of the bases countless munitions and arms, as well as the heavier weapons that couldn't be stored in the level two armories. In addition, a rather sizable medical wing was also to be located on this level, complete with an operational and surgical suite, an x-ray machine, as well as several quarantine chambers and even a large decompression chamber, in addition to a smaller mobile one. A small secure conference room would also be built adjacent to the command center. Finally a small wing of holding cells were also planned for the base, in the event they needed to capture or contain an alien.

Level Two was the largest area, here is where the barracks and the internal vehicle hanger bay were to be located, as well as many of the crew facilities. The vehicle bay was by far the largest room of the base, easily twice the size of the gate room. Capable of housing dozens of tanks and other vehicles, in addition to maintaining and refueling them, this room also had a large lift that could connect directly to the gate room to lower a small number of vehicles directly into the room, in the event of rapid deployment. Finally, vehicle weapons and ammunition were located in a secure armory built off to the side of the bay, on the opposite end of the fuel storage location. The barracks were a series of multiple housing wings that had central communal meeting and recreational halls, in addition to housing several gym facilities. There was also a small movie there and library located on this level as well. In addition, several hydroponic gardens were planned as well, both to provide fresh food for the soldiers, and to provide a solid stream of food in the event the base got cut off from outside support for some reason.

Level One was primarily for intake. A briefing room was located here to allow new arrivals to become familiar with the facility, and much of the bases non-essential storage would be located here as well. There were also several small security stations guarding the only entrance into the base as well, a giant, three meter solid steel gate which used a series of hydraulic pumps to open and close. On the surface, all that could really be seen of the base area was a small hill with a giant metal door built into it. If it weren't for the small road leading to the base or the acres of barbed chain-link fence surrounding the facility, it would be fairly inconspicuous all in all, yet would be the home to thousands of soldiers and personnel.

July 20th, 1945

As Truman signaled the technician to come in and remove the projector, he looked over at Prime Minister Winston Churchill as he took a long slip of brandy from his tumbler. As he uncorked the decanter and poured himself another drink, he finally looked up at Truman and spoke.

"So, just to reiterate, you found an ancient alien device that can send you to different worlds, you have a base in an ancient alien castle, and on one of the three places you can connect to, you found a group of aliens that can shoot heat rays at you?"

"Well, we don't think they're heat rays, but yes that's the gist of it."

"Well, I can certainly say that Britain and her people appreciate you telling us this, obviously this is quite the discovery."

"Indeed, though right now we're obviously planning on keeping this classified for a long while, there are just too many unknowns about it currently, and bringing it forward to the world right now, or even at some point in the immediate or near future, could cause enormous problems."

"Oh, agreed, rest assured we'll stay mum on this."

"Excellent. Also, any British involvement will, of course, remain contingent on the United Kingdom's continued silence pertaining to this device. Which brings me to my next point; we're slowly building a combat force capable of responding to any threats that might emerge from this Stargate. We're presently working on converting the 13th Airborne for this task but it will take some time. If you and your people can contribute any forces, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Indeed, I can promise you that if I win in a couple days, you'll have that support, but…well, Attlee and Labour have been running strong and they might be taking the reins from this old warhorse. I'll see what I can do in the event that happens, but be ready to give this briefing all over again if they do win. In general though, I think regardless of whichever man wins, you can count on Great Britain's assistance, though we might be tied up for a while. A lot of our colonial holdings are in a tad bit of a spot, the natives are getting uppity in a lot of places, India especially." Taking another sip of brandy, he muttered to himself , "I kept telling everyone that we should have hung that Gandhi bastard when we the chance."

"Anyways, I'm glad to have your assistance Mr. Prime Minister, regardless of which way the political situation goes."

"Indeed, and who knows, perhaps one day the British flag will fly proudly over an alien world, who knows, perhaps there are some aliens out there in need of civilizing."

August 1st, 1945

As Truman signaled the technician to come in and remove the projector, he looked over at Prime Minister Clement Attlee, who was taking a long sip of a cut of tea. As he slowly steeped another cup, he looked up at Truman and spoke.

"Well…Churchill was certainly right, this is quite significant." he said as he set his utensils down.

"I take it then he filled you in on a lot of the details then?"

"He did, though he mentioned that I should still see the footage you had…Well, I can safely say that yes, the United Kingdom will provide whatever assistance it can to your efforts Mr. President."

Truman sighed with relief; he'd been worried that the new British government might not be as amiable to supporting the Stargate. As he began to settle in, though, Attlee spoke up.

"So when are you planning on informing the Soviets about this?" he asked innocently as he sipped on his tea.

Sitting up straight, Truman looked into Attlee's eyes "Never … or at least not for any immediate frame of time. We're not going to risk Stalin getting his hands on any alien technology."

"Oh come now, Mr. President, Stalin and his people are our allies, may I remind you they took the brunt of Hitler's forces and are partners at this conference. Considering this is a matter of global security, it would be prudent to inform them."

"If it was any other power, I'd agree with you, but this is Stalin, I don't trust that man any further than I can throw him."

Frowning, Attlee set his tea down before continuing "Ah yes, Churchill kept warning us about the Soviets. Did you know that nutter wanted to rearm the Germans and send them right back at the Soviets while we helped them invade? Preposterous! I concede Stalin may be a strong arm tactics user, and there certainly have been unsavory reports of his opponents…"disappearing," but he's not some power mad megalomaniac who's bent on world domination. Considering the Soviets have one of the largest militaries and manufacturing bases left intact from this whole horrific war, it would be absurd to not include them."

"That may be Mr. Prime Minister, but myself, and my government feel quite differently on this. For the time being we don't want any Soviet involvement; while that could change later on, our present concerns with Stalin and his forces have left us quite adamant on this. And as I'm sure Churchill told you, British involvement would be contingent on your government being able to keep this a secret as well."

Attlee frowned at the not so veiled threat, but he still sat tall. Speaking quietly, with a small edge to his voice, he continued, "We can keep this a secret, Mr. President. I may not agree with you, but we will, if only to gain access to these technologies. But know this, when it comes to safety of our planet, and its inhabitants, we cannot be picky about our allies. I'd have thought this war would have hammered that point home…Mr. President."

Pulling out a briefcase, Attlee pulled out several pieces of paper and began to write several things down. "We're a bit spread thin for the moment, but I think we can manage to pull up a few squads and some equipment for your program. Churchill already gave us the specifics about it; they need to be comfortable with the prospect of potentially never returning home and such. We'll also start scouting some of our academies and other programs to find qualified scientists and others who may be of some assistance as well."

Finishing his notes, he looked back to Truman and extended his hand "His Majesty's Government looks forward to working with the United States on this endeavor."

Smiling Truman took his hand and shook it. The program had just gotten a boost that he was sure Dr. Langford would be pleased about.

Meanwhile in another hotel room in Potsdam, Pavel and Boris looked at the scattered papers around them.

"Have you found anything yet, Boris?" Pavel asked, as he discarded another stack of papers

"Nothing yet, comrade, the British and Americans have been fairly through, they've even found our bugs so we've got nothing from the American president's meeting with the British."

Pavel swore, the same thing happened when they tried to bug his meeting with Churchill. They'd been pouring over communiques and other documents they'd manage to steal and or copy, but so far had no luck in uncovering anything vital.

After another hour of searching, Pavel say backwards on his bed and huffed. They'd been at this for three days, trying to find any kind of information that could prove useful, but so far no luck. Just as he started to close his eyes, Boris gave a shout of joy.

"What is it?" Pavel yelped as he snapped his eyes open.

"You remember that program the American started a little bit ago, that 100 million dollar one that bugged you? Well I found its name. Area 52!"

"Excellent, what is its function?" he said as he stood up.

"Eh…well that's the thing, it doesn't list its function, only the name and a very large classified stamp."

"Well fuck, that doesn't really give us too much, does it Boris?" he snapped.

"Hey now, at least we know the name of that thing. Maybe once we finally have some time we can investigate." Clapping his hands he continued, "Now come on, we have to keep looking for anything that has mention of Manhattan or Trinity."

Rubbing his eyes, Pavel say back down and continued to look through the papers.

January 5th, 1946

Ernest was staring at the currently-active light emitter. Well, more accurately, he was staring at the atomic structures it emitted. There had to be some kind of rhyme and reason to it all. He paced around the room, glancing up and down. He'd been here almost a year by Earth reckoning, and they still had so much work they needed to do. Several more groups had come through, boosting Heliopolis's population to just over one hundred. Four squads of soldiers now lived here, including the British squad that had come through with several specialists from the United Kingdom. All guarded the civilians. Hammond organized daily exercise regimens for the soldiers which usually consisted of them running up and down the spiral stair case several times a day. They'd also rigged a mechanical pulley system to create moving targets at the gate room's improvised shooting range so they could try and maintain their shooting training. Most of the civilians had also become proficient with some form of fire arm, usually one of the pistols. The location had settled into something of a routine as well. In addition to recently-authorized scouting missions out to five kilometers in all accessible directions on land, when people weren't working on their assigned tasks, they were usually clearing out rubble. That was one strange thing they had discovered about the castle, it was a sturdy building, apparently more than capable of taking severe punishment, but something had clearly happened a long time ago that damaged it relatively severely. Anything like this on Earth would have probably crumbled or been just about ready to fall apart, but here, the superstructure, they had discovered, was reinforced with strange steel like metal that they had so far failed to acquire a sample of. Nothing seemed to affect the metal, and when they tried to take a small chunk off with a cutting torch, the metal rapidly cooled to the touch. They'd spent half a year now trying to figure out how to get a piece of the metal for a sample. In the meantime, they'd been slowly going through the castle and removing rubble, starting from the lower levels and working up; using mostly their hands and a few hand baskets, they'd managed to clear out roughly ninety percent of the castle, only few upper rooms still had rubble left in them. Soon Heliopolis would be back up to 100%.

Looking back to the lights, Ernest continued to struggle with them. They were missing something, something that could help them decipher it in the long run. He couldn't figure out, though, why the vertical height of the projected atoms varied so much. If this was just a fancy book, why were the lines so crooked and the spaces between the atoms so inconsistent? Unlike the other writing in Heliopolis, this one had been maddeningly frustrating, even some of the writings on the wall in this chamber were getting deciphered; Dr. Norwich was making headway on the set of runes which, according to him, were very similar to a set of runes found in ancient Nordic settlements, which itself opened up the possibility of further alien involvement beyond merely Egyptian god-impersonators. Looking back to the projector, though, it was like a book written by someone who didn't know how to keep the lines straight or evenly space the words out. There was no reason for such chaos in such a technological form, though. Unless…

"Of course!" he said quietly. "We've all been idiots! The height of and spacing between the atoms are part of the code's structure!"

Picking up a pencil he began to trace several of the lines and dots, mentally reciting several compound and other base structures. To his delight, the lines matched up to several of the compounds in his mind. The language, the code, it was a basic building block for a language, it had to be if this was indeed some kind of meeting place, they would need some kind of universal written way to communicate, and what could be more simple than the very unchanging elements of the universe itself. Just as he began to settle himself in to start taking notes, Dr. Stevens came rushing down the staircase, and nearly ran into Ernest.

"Oomph." he said as he caught himself just before colliding. "Ernest!" He half shouted excitedly, "We have something! Something huge!" He gestured at Ernest to follow him as he darted up the stairs.

Sighing, Ernest put his pencil and pad away, the console would still be there later, he supposed. As he ran and followed Robert, he strained to hear him over the small echo of the stairwell.

"…We were moving some rubble from one of the side rooms near the gate, that's been kind of low on our list, since we've mostly be building up near the gate room and clearing out the living rooms. But then we turned over some of the rubble and found something! We've been straightening it up and re aligning it and…" He stopped as they reached the small alcove, Robert doubling over and wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath "… there … were … coordinates!" he finished as Ernest entered the room.

There were dozens of pieces of rubble arranged against the wall, meticulously put back together so their images realigned in a reasonably readable fashion. The stone was at least twelve feet tall, and carved into it were dozens of stargate coordinates.

"We've counted at least 54 coordinate sets on this cartouche so far, while they're probably only a fraction of viable addresses, we theorize that since Ra and his people may have only lived here a short time, they only had time to mark down a comparatively small handful of possible planets, and most likely, these were the important or significant ones." Robert said standing up straight.

"That's good work." Ernest said admiring the cartouche, next to each address was a small inscription of hieroglyphs, most likely denoting the importance of that address. "Once we start exploring we'll have a list of potential worlds to visit an.." he said before Robert cut him off.

"That's not all, Ernest. Look at the coordinate set that's third from the bottom." Stevens said, handing Ernest a piece of paper. On it was another set of scribbled out translations from the doctor until he'd finally unscrambled it. It read "Those of the first world." Looking at the cartouche again, next to those hieroglyphs were also a large number of what appeared to be crudely drawn humans. Most of the other addresses had a simple star, or a star and column next to their address.

"Those of the first world, and it had a drawing of humans! Ernest, I think this is Earth's address!" he said, his voice rising. "We've found Earth! We aren't stranded anymore!"

"Hold on Robert, this could mean anything; it could be Ra's home world for all we know. We need to be careful and think this through." he said, his voice not betraying his excitement. If this was Earth, they could all go home. On the other hand, it could be something dangerous. "Let's follow protocol; I'll dial this address and radio to see if it's home."

Catherine's eyes widened as she saw the ring, she remembered it all too well from when she accompanied her father on his trip to Egypt nearly twenty years ago. As she walked through the warehouse, she could hardly believe what her father had told her about its purpose. At first she'd though he was just teasing her, humoring her as he tried to explain what had happened to Ernest. Those first few weeks after Ernest had left had been hard, when her father had said that he had to send him to England to meet with others for an emergency project. Then he said that a new meeting had to happen in Australia, and then a few weeks after that, another one in Canada. She'd grown suspicious and confronted her father about it, and he finally admitted that he and Ernest were involved in a classified project and couldn't tell her more. He also explained that due to its nature, Ernest couldn't really talk to her.

So she'd waited, months passed by and nothing happened, Ernest was still gone and her father was still tight lipped. She'd continue to pester him about it, and she could see that he wanted to tell her, but couldn't. So it'd come to her as a surprise when he approached her and offered to explain everything. They had to go through a lot of hoops first, she had to submit multiple forms of identification to the government, go through several interrogations about her political views and views of other nations, had her entire background reviewed, her choices in friends and acquaintances examined, and then sign a mountain of paperwork that basically said opening her mouth about it would be a one-way ticket to a dark cell for probably the rest of her life, and that she understood those consequences perfectly well. But she'd done it without a second thought, since it all meant she could finally find out what happened to Ernest.

Her father explained most of it on the drive to the warehouse. She'd been shocked when he explained it, but she slowly had time to process what he said. A doorway to another world, Ernest being trapped in an alien castle, and the strange being with the light staff, one thing was for sure, it'd take a bit of time to adjust to the new reality. As the entered the warehouse, he father was finishing up his speech.

"…And so in a little bit, we'll be dialing Heliopolis and sending a regular supply shipment. While we do that, you can radio Ernest. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you in person." he said with a smile.

As they entered the room, though, the gate seemed to already be on, a pool of blue light bathing the center of the ring. Various soldiers milling around to the side of the gate, their weapons to their sides.

"What the hell?" he father muttered, "I told them to wait on the shipment until we arrived." He began to walk towards the gate technician who was talking into his radio.

"It's all clear," she could hear him say as he father approached him. She wasn't paying attention though as she stood, entranced by the gate. Suddenly, a small whoosh sound emanated from the gate as a solo figure dashed through the blue light and onto the ramp. Her eyes widened…

"Ernest!" she shouted, as the figure caught sight of her and broke out into a mad sprint. She saw her father look up as Ernest dashed over to her and scooped her up in his arms and spun around a couple times.

"Catherine!" he said with a loud whisper and he rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes, a large grin on his face. Looking up to her father, he gestured to her with his head with a confused look on his face. Her father smiled and nodded his head.

"We figured it out, well, Robert figured it out! Earth's address, we have it, we can finally go back and forth … we can come home!"

Looking back at her, he gave her a long kiss as the two held each other, finally reunited after being apart for the better part of a year.

Catherine broke the kiss, stepped out of Ernest's embrace, and then slapped him. "What were you thinking?!" she yelled. "You could have been killed! And you didn't even think to tell me you were going to risk your life doing something so stupid!"

Ernest was stunned by Catherine's action. "What?" he said.

"We were supposed to be married months ago, and then you go off and risk your life without knowing what you're walking into! What would have happened if you'd been killed?"

Paul stepped over and put a hand on Catherine's shoulder. "Catherine, stop." he said. "Ernest could have been killed, yes, but he was the only one willing to take the risk of going through. If he hadn't, we'd still be just as ignorant of what's out there. Ernest's actions have led us to realize that there are dangers and wonders out there that we never imagined. Now, because of Ernest's risk, we can begin finding ways to protect ourselves from the things out there that would have no issue destroying us or enslaving us or doing other things to us. Ernest is a hero to Earth."

Catherine stewed for a moment. "You could have told me." she said quietly after a moment's silence.

"I'm sorry." Ernest said. "I wasn't thinking. I was so excited by what could be out there, I didn't stop to think about the effect it would have on you. I assumed that coming home would be easy." he said.

"I'd like to see this place, this Heliopolis, for myself." Catherine said. "I want to see where you've spent the last ten months."

"Oh, you'll love it." Ernest said eagerly. "It's incredible! Wait until you see the projector room! And the control center! There's so much there, lifetimes of research! Whoever built it, I pray they're still around so I can meet them one day!"

Paul spoke up. "I never said she could go through, Ernest."

"You have to let me!" Catherine said.

"You have to let her!" Ernest said simultaneously.

"No, I don't have to. And I won't. Not until I've had a chance to speak to Truman about this latest development. " He said taking a few small steps back. But then Paul Langford's lips broke into a small smile "And then, I'm going back with you two. I want to see this place with my own eyes at last."


End file.
